


Discovering a Curse

by cactussoup



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Elf/Human Relationship(s), Everything is under works, Explicit Language, F/M, Hopefully much more writing to come, More characters to come, Sexual Content, female elven witcher
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-07-19 15:21:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7367062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cactussoup/pseuds/cactussoup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Geralt is hunting the Salamandra, but in his adventure comes across someone of whose nature doesn't make sense with many things he knows about witchers. They ultimately hunt the Salamandra together, but that is not close to the end of their adventure.</p><p>*At this point I have royally changed the plot come chapter 5, so don't expect anything from the first game after that. It starts back during Wild Hunt*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. As Fate Would Have It

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Witcher's Path](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5627788) by [Fen_Assan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fen_Assan/pseuds/Fen_Assan). 



He swung around with sword in hand. The White Wolf was engaged in battle with monsters of various types in a cave he was exploring; pirouetting here and there, slicing a foe in half everywhere else. After the battle, he slung the gore off of his smooth silver sword and proceeded to wipe it clean with an oiled cloth. He ventured further into the cave.

 

Geralt of Rivia was looking for something in the cave relating to the Salamandra bandits that had ransacked the only place he could remember and call home, Kaer Morhen. Since he had lost his memory, he focused on the one thing he still knew, his witcher duties. Now they had all separated to find out why their castle had been targeted for a theft, and where their prized mutagens were headed.

 

As he ventured farther in, he noticed a faint glow of a torch ahead. _Bandits I bet. Should switch swords._ He sheathed his silver sword and drew out his heavier steel one. As Gerald extinguished his own torch in hopes of avoiding notice, his steps became utterly silent to even his own extraordinary ears. Turning the corner, he saw a hooded figure kneeling over a small chest. The figure looked small and thin, and they had a beautifully engraved recurve bow down by their side. He then noticed an array of light weaponry along the figure’s waist and a small crossbow slung on the side. _Dangerous and well prepared I presume, I’ll just watch for a few moments._ Geralt settled into a small crevice in the cave that permitted him to spy on the figure.

 

Geas’elaine looked at her safe keepings in the chest. Everything she had left from Novigrad. After that horrid attack on her kind inside the city, she could stay no longer. This was all she managed to keep from consumed by the fire that took her temporary home. The chest was an extremely old, adorned one from her family. It was the only thing she knew of them, for they had left it open with her inside in the woods as a babe. Geas’elaine ran her thin, calloused hands along the edges of it, pushed it closed, and took out a small key to lock it. Taking the chest by the handles and leaving her torch, she stood up and turned to leave the cave.

 

Geralt saw the figure turn around with the chest in hand. He could discern that the hooded figure is probably elven, and slender enough to be female. As Geralt looked at the figure, he slid down ever so slightly as he lost footing. He saw bright green eyes, with pupils shaped like his own cat-like pupils, flash up directly at him. They two eyes squinted in his direction and then widened to a large degree, and he knew at that instant the figure saw his eyes.

 

Geas’elaine ran through the cave with chest in tow. She ran with feline demeanor and precision, something they taught her in her schooling. As she continued her escape, she became surrounded by nekkers popping up from the ground of the cave. Skidding to a stop, she put down the chest and drew a crossbow in her left and and a silver rapier in her right. She shot one nekker in the head and sliced another open. The man she had seen spying on her in the cave came into battle alongside her, and sliced the heads off two nekkers in one fell swoop. The battle was quickly over.

 

After the battle, the two strangers stood face to face and looked at one another. Geralt let a small grunt out before asking, “Who are you?”

 

Geas’elaine responded with an icy whisper, “Is that any of your business, Wolf?”

 

Geralt knew it was either his medallion or his reputation he has no memory of that lent him this name, “Maybe not, but I’m nevertheless curious as to how you have green cat eyes.”

 

Geas’elaine looked him up and down. Another witcher should be trustworthy. Although she was from the cat school, and many didn’t favor the cat school after the betrayal. She knows nothing about the details, but knows of the disdain many wolf school witchers now have for cat school witchers. She spoke up as she pulled her cat school medallion out of her pocket, “I’m a witcher as well. From the cat school. But we’ve mostly disbanded and gone on different Paths. There’s nothing left for us.”

 

“That doesn’t explain the green of your eyes. Witcher’s are supposed to have amber ones.”

 

“Extra mutations. The cat school has it’s shady history, as you are no doubt aware. The leader at the time thought it would be interesting to experiment a little bit. I regenerate even faster and age even less than normal witchers. Side effect just happened to be bright green eyes.”

 

Glares were then exchanged between the two of them. Geralt had more questions, and began with the one he was most curious about, “What happened to your school? Why did everyone leave?”

 

She thought about not responding. Instead she decided that the wolf school deserved to know at least what she knew. Despite the schools’ differences they were still connected. Like families connected by marriage. She began, “Well by the time I came back to the school to see how it was, Treyse had driven everyone insane or made them hate him. For years we were all on edge when we were there, and one day soldiers stormed the keep. They deemed us ‘unfit for even basic witcher tasks’. Killed most of us. Around six escaped through various means. A couple of crazy ones got out and became hired assassins. The rest of us went through our own Path.”

 

“So who is left out of your order?”

 

“Not many. I have no idea who is left. Many left before that attack.”

 

“Probably no one worth finding is what you’re telling me, right?”

 

She sighed and spoke, “Right. There’s nothing left. Like I said.”

 

Geralt continued to glare intensely at her. He wasn’t sure if he should trust her. Witchers from the Cat School are notorious for being shady psychopaths, assassins for hire, and outright evil people. The betrayal was not something he remembered fondly, and he was shocked he could remember it at all, and he did know that cats were questionable characters. She could be one of those very witchers, but she was telling him something no other cat schooled witcher would tell anyone, much less a wolf.

 

Geas’elaine glared back with equal intensity and said, “So why are you here, Gwynbleidd?”

 

“Hunting a gang. They ransacked Kaer Morhen’s laboratory. Killed one of us. All the witchers went in different directions to search for them.”

 

She understood immediately the problem with that. The gang could easily use the mutagens they stole for terrible things were they to figure out how to use them. They would need advanced equipment, but it was nothing they couldn’t obtain from an alchemist. “I assume you have a trail?”

 

He sighed and said, “Hardly. I know there is a headquarters around this area, but I’m still searching for something more than that. You wouldn’t happened to know anything about the Salamandra?”

 

Surprise consumed her. The Salamandra? She had multiple quarrels with them in the area, and knew of their prejudice against witchers. They had tried to steal her potions on multiple occasions. She finally mustered words, “I know not where they reside, but I’ve been attacked by them as well. They’ve tried to relieve me of my mutagens.”

 

Geralt was not surprised, but was growing more concerned. Why would they want the mutagens so badly they would go to Kaer Morhen when there was a witcher right here? With massive numbers they could take her out, he was sure. Any witcher can be taken out if put up against too many foes. He looked at her soft elven face trying to find some kind of feeling in it. She looked concerned and frustrated now that she knew of this.

 

She spoke up once more, “Look, I have to go and take care of some things. There’s a village nearby full of brick makers. I’ll meet you around the outskirts of the village. Let’s meet there later, around midnight, and I’ll show you everything I know of the Salamandra.” As she finished she picked up her chest once more and vanished from the cave.

 

He had to know what she could tell him. Anything would aid his trail, and another witcher would not be a terrible ally to have in this fight. Although her character was still in question.

 

###

Geas’elaine continued outside of the cave to her new destination. She had found an abandoned cabin in the middle of the swamp, and it would serve as her new residence after what happened in Novigrad; she didn’t want to stay in a city much anymore. She approached the door looking for any sign of life inside. There had been none for a week, but she wanted to be sure that no one had come back. She saw nothing, and pushed the rickety door open. She put the chest down and examined her surroundings once more. All the windows had been broken, and the furniture cushions were wet from the moisture in the swamp. She set to cleaning up the glass and throwing the damp cushions into the fire place. She drew the igni sign and the cushions became a bright orange glow before turning to ash. 

 

Geralt stood in the cave for awhile processing everything he just learned. _More witchers, and from the Cat School? Can I even trust what she says? The Cats are the only school that have proved themselves to be criminals and morally demented witchers. Maybe she isn’t. Maybe some are good._ He kept thinking about the possibilities. Unsure of what he should do. He eventually concluded that he could get himself out of any real trouble he might find if he trusts her, and that most likely she was a much younger witcher with less skill - therefore less threatening. 

 

He emerged from the cave, his cat-like pupils constricting to a mere slit amidst amber iris. Looking to the sun, he saw that it was afternoon. Vizima would be busy right now, with people heading to inns and homes after a long day of labor. Geralt knew he didn’t have time to go back now, he had to meet the witcher girl tonight. It was strange to him, to meet an elven witcher, and even more so a female one. She probably wouldn’t be allowed in Vizima with the plague and her very non-human nature. Elves were feared because they might be Scoia’tael, and thus they were rarely allowed in the city. An elven witcher would raise far too many questions. Geralt trekked through the swamp across the river from Vizima. He decided to wander the woods until sundown. 

 

Geas’elaine had cleaned up most of the house by the time the sun was going down. She had also torn down some rickety or broken structures of the house for firewood tonight. Those pieces had made their way into her fireplace or nearby for later, and she was now using igni to light some for now. She also found old candles, and she set those alight in another part of the house reserved for sleeping. The old abode now seemed decent for living, and she could go into town to buy some luxury items to spice things up if she decided to stay for long. For a time being, she sat and sorted through the items in her small pack. She put trinkets and herbs in her chest for safe keeping, and secured it all underneath a floorboard in a hideout she found earlier. Most things were put in a safe place for now, and she decided it time to go and meet the White Wolf. She had heard so much from all over the land, and she hoped he was the vigilante she heard of and that the stories had not been exaggerated. 

 

She took her recurve bow and two daggers, as well as a quiver full of arrows, and set on her way to the town. Her feet easily found the roots of trees or hardened earth for most of the route, and she was so light on her feet she barely sank into the soggy areas of the swamp. She eventually drew close to the town she told the White Wolf to meet her at, and she saw a figure with long white hair. Geas’elaine longed to test the tale of him blocking arrows with his sword, but knew it would earn much distrust with her Cat School history. Instead she intentionally made her steps louder as to alert him to her approach, and he subsequently turned around to face her. His amber eyes looked over her grey and red leather attire, not lingering anywhere for more than a couple seconds. She gazed up at him, she had to because he towered over her, and she broke the silence, “Hello, Gwynbleidd.”

 

Geralt spoke, “Never exchanged names. I need something to call you.”

 

She hoped he didn’t know any elder speech, but responded regardless, “Geas’elaine. And yours?”

 

An intrigued look crossed his face before he spoke, “Geralt of Rivia.”

 

“Nice to finally exchange names, Geralt.

 

“Mhm.”

 

Her name in fact meant beautiful curse, and she was led to believe she was named at the Cat School. After being left in the woods, a witcher happened upon her and took her to the school. He named her, assuming she was a curse to her parents, but he just saw a small and beautiful elven baby. At least that’s what she was always told. Seemed too sweet and convenient on the witcher's part, but she would never really know. She said to Geralt, “So you’re looking for Salamandra. I am too, and I’ve gathered some information you might like to know.”

 

“Go on.”

 

“They have three hideouts in town. One is underneath a hut outside of Vizima, recently raided and cleared out. I would assume your work. Another is in the sewers. A fisstech lab to my knowledge. I’ve yet to find anything about the location of the third, just that it’s where many things are discussed. I’d assume that means there are important members there. In addition to all of that, I have a lead that could help us find out a bit more.”

 

“Us?”

 

“Well I assumed if I told you all this we would work together. They’ve tried to steal from me too. I’ve been attacked by these bandits.”

 

Geralt grunts in an unhappy manner and speaks, “I work alone.”

 

Geas’elaine turns away from him and beings walking. She responds, “Well no more information then. I’ll pursue this on my own as well.” 

 

Geralt grabs her shoulder in effort to keep her there, and she stops in her tracks. He says, “Fine. We’ll work together. Do you have a way to get yourself into the city without trouble?”

 

“I’ve managed to sway a couple guards in my favor. They don’t trust me like most witchers, but the eyes don’t lie. If you thought they would take me for Scoia’tael you’d be wrong. They worried more about my mutant nature than my elven nature. And there’s always axii.”

 

“All true I suppose.”

 

She grins at him and begins to speak, “Never had another witcher as a partner. Let’s get to it. We can go investigate one of my leads right now.”

 

“Alright. Lead the way and tell me about the lead.”

 

They both begin walking towards the ferryman’s station. Geas’elaine resumes her habit of finding the more solid areas to walk in as she leads and begins to inform him of her lead, “There’s this merchant buying Salamandra pins off of people. The ones they use to identify themselves, you know? Well I figure he’s either buying them because he’s part of the organization and doesn’t want them in mercenary hands, or he's using them as some kind of bounty system. Either way, its a good way for us to find out some basic information on them.”

 

“Where is he located?”

 

“People say he’s often at The Hairy Bear inn. He likes drinking, so maybe a contest will loosen him up?”

 

Geralt gets a small smirk across his face and says, “Believe I have that part covered. I’ll do that, and you hang by nearby and listen. It’ll probably help matters if one of us stays sober.”

 

“Wait a second, why don’t I get to do the contest?”

 

“You’re half my size. Even as a witcher you can’t have the same toxicity levels as I can.”

 

She sighs and speaks, “Fine. But next time I get the fun job.”

 

At this point they’ve reached the ferryman’s hut, and it seems he’s gone in for the night. Geralt knocks on the door and they hear some stirring. The ferryman opens the door and speaks, “What are you doing here in the middle of the night? I’m not making any trips right now!”

 

Geas’elaine takes out her coin pouch and asks him how much it will take to get them across. 

 

“Eighty orens,” the ferryman says.

 

“Done.”

 

She drops the coins in his hands and he grabs his paddle. Soon they are on a ferry ride across the river. Geas’elaine sits in the very front of the boat and props her feet up on the rim of it and proceeds to lay back and rest her head on the seat behind her. Geralt looks down beside him at her and shakes his head. 

 

“Do you not like to lay back and enjoy the ride, Geralt?”

 

“I do, just not with strangers.”

 

“I won’t be a stranger much longer,” she says while a wide grin crosses her face. Geralt grunts again, and Geas’elaine just goes to her own thoughts. 

 

She comes to the conclusion that either Geralt is a man of few words, or he doesn’t trust her at all yet. Probably a mix of both, but Geas’elaine wanted to change that. She was so tired of no one trusting her. She had lost her home and her other witchers, which she could never depend on. No common people trusted her, because not only was she a mutant witcher, but an elf too. Being largely alone for so many years was getting old. She was ready for someone to travel alongside, and no one was better than another witcher that wasn’t an insane murderer. Her mind lingered on these topics. 

 

Geralt looked over at Geas’elaine, and he noticed the sad gaze on her face. He looked away. It made him uncomfortable. Witchers weren’t supposed to feel all that much, they were just supposed to work and help people. Geralt did feel emotions, but he was an exception to the general rule and he mostly bottled it up. Kept it deep inside.

 

They arrived at the dock, and Geas’elaine promptly jumps out of the boat onto the dock. Geralt steps up onto the dock and they approach the gates. The guards give them no trouble, as they recognized both the witchers. People still on the streets stare as the witchers go by, as the sight of two witchers - especially a man and a elven woman together - walking through Vizima was an unprecedented occurrence. Eventually they arrive at The Hairy Bear, and Geas’elaine shows Geralt the merchant from afar. They then approach and begin their plan.


	2. Following the Lead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt and Geas'elaine pursue the merchant buying Salamandra pins. Geralt enters a drinking contest with him at the Hairy Bear.

 

Geralt staggers out of the inn, barely holding himself up after that drinking contest. The merchant was a massive man and heavy drinker, even the White Wolf had his work cut out for him. In the end he succeeded, and he hoped that Geas’elaine had heard everything because he was far too drunk to locate his own body parts. “Geas-“ he hiccuped, “-elaine!” Geralt was now yelling her name outside of the inn.

 

She walked up to him and hissed, “Geralt! Hush, and come here.” She took his arm and guided him.

 

“You see that? Bested him. The best drinker in all the lands here.”

 

“Yes, yes I did see Geralt. You did very well,” she said as they walked.

 

“Geashelaine?”

 

“You can just say Geas.”

 

“Okay. Geas.”

 

“What were you going to say?”

 

Geralt looked at her very confused. He asked, “That’s a good questshun.”

 

She giggled at him. Geralt was nearly pass-out drunk, and he couldn’t handle himself in the least. She had finally walked him to the small safe house she had claimed in the city. They walked in, and she set him down on a couch inside. He looked up at her and said, “So do we go hunt the bad guys now? Those… those… Salamanders!”

 

“Not right now, Geralt. We can’t follow the lead until the morning.”

 

He looked very disappointed. He then suggested, “Alright, so let’s do something else fun.”

 

“What would you like to do?”

 

He sat and thought very hard for a couple minutes, and eventually looked down at himself and back up with a disappointed face. He said, “Can’t think of anything right now.”

 

“How about I make us some food and then you sleep, okay?”

 

“Yeah that’s good. Could go for… any food. Right now.”

 

Geas walked across the room to look around in the sparse pantry she had there. Mostly bread was available. She turned back to Geralt and said, “Quick change of plans. I’m going to run back to the tavern and buy some food. What do you want?”

 

“Everything. Anything. Meat mostly.”

 

“Alright. I’ll be back. Don’t leave. You’re too drunk.” She left the safehouse.

 

Geralt stood up and looked around the room. He saw just basic furniture, but there was a staircase going up. He ascended the stairs, holding onto a railing very tightly. He then saw a bedroom with pretty sheets and a bathtub. Geralt shed his weapons and most clothes except some underwear and climbed into bed.

 

Gaes came back just a moment or two later only to go upstairs and find Geralt passed out. She nudged him and he woke up to see a plate full of meat, cheese, fresh bread, and some fruits in her hands. She said, “You have to get out of my bed to eat. Come sit.” As he tried to get out of bed she realized how far he had stripped down. “Woah woah. That’s okay. Never mind. Just stay in bed.”

 

“No you’re right it’s -“ he hiccups, “-rude to eat in someone else’s bed. Sit over there. Floor.”

 

Geas sighs and decides to let drunken Geralt make his own decision. She watches as the witcher finally gets out of bed and she then sees how he is coated in massive scars from head to toe. He staggers across the room, and once reaching a wall he slides down it and sits on the floor. Geralt motions for her to bring him the food. Shaking herself out of surprise at all the scars, she walks over and sits down with him to eat.

 

They sit together and spend an hour laughing and eating. Geralt’s being drunk loosened him up to a point of conversation with her, and he actually made jokes and seemed like the witcher in the more fun tales she had heard of. When they were done eating, she helped Geralt into the bed and left him a white honey potion for when he wakes up. She went downstairs to sleep on the couch.

 

###

 

Geralt rolls over in the bed and opens his eyes only to be met with burning rays of sunlight. _How hard did I drink last night? I must have beat every man in the bar._ He opens his eyes once more and sees the white honey potion. He takes it and drinks every last drop, and then he lies back down waiting to feel better. A few seconds later all symptoms of the raging hangover he was almost stuck with are gone. He sits up to see his clothes are in fact strewn all across the room, although his weapons are neatly placed on a table across the room. He realizes he doesn’t remember a damn thing from the entire night, and decides to get dressed and investigate where he is.

 

He walks down the stairs after clothing himself and sees Geas’elaine sleeping on the couch. To him, she looked peaceful when curled up asleep. This did not stop him from nudging her awake. He spoke quietly, “Geas’elaine.”

 

She mumbles a few unintelligible words and manages to tell him to just call her Geas again.

 

“What happened last night?”

 

Geas opens her eyes to look up at him. She asks, “You don’t remember anything?”

 

“No.”

 

“You beat the merchant in a drinking contest, but he was a giant guy and it took about 17 rounds. You almost passed out. Then I brought you back here, and I left to go get food for us. I came back and you had stripped down and started sleeping in my bed. I woke you up for food. We ate and talked for an hour or so, and then I put you back to bed with a potion for the hangover.”

 

“Why didn’t you just give me the potion last night? We could have pursued the lead.”

 

“No, the new lead wouldn’t have been out until this morning. But I have a pretty good idea of where he is for the next few hours. Just go grab some food and we’ll eat and head out for the lead.”

 

Geralt nodded. It was the least he could do after her taking care of him through and obviously piss-drunk stupor. He walked down the street to a merchant, and brought back some breakfast food. They ate and discussed the lead.

 

###

 

Geralt and Geas walked down the street towards the man in charge of the merchant buying Salamandra pins. They introduce themselves as witchers looking for work. The man offers them  job clearing drowners from the nearby lake. After they accept the job, Geas holds up a Salamandra pin between her fingers and asks, “Would you happen to know where I could get rid of this thing?”

 

The man’s eyes narrow to slits. He says, “I’ll give you fifty orens for it.”

 

“Oh, really? Why do you want it?”

 

“Don’t play with me little girl, I just want the pins.”

 

Geas felt very offended and irritated at being called a little girl, especially seeing as how she could kill the man with her bare hands. “I don’t really appreciate this ‘little girl’ thing. I’m about to go slay a horde of drowners for you and sell you this pin. Very impolite.”

 

Geralt speaks up, “Really just want to know why you want these pins and will pay so much for them.”

 

The man speaks again, “No. This conversation is over.”

 

“Dyna a d'yaebl aép arse.” Geas gave the man an icy stare.

 

Geralt and Geas walked away, knowing that they wouldn’t gain any information from this man. Geas whispered to Geralt, “I’m going to tail him. There’s something he is hiding, and that could lead us to the Salamandra. Go check out the town for leads.”

 

Geralt nods and they depart from one another. He enters the city and wonders if he can find the base in the sewers. On his walk towards the nearest sewer entrance he knew of, he thought about last night and how he probably made a fool out of himself. He couldn’t remember much, and he certainly had no idea what he had talked to her about. Why did that merchant have to be such a heavy drinker? Oh well, what's done is done. He arrived at the entrance and began trekking through the sewers.

 

Geas had climbed up onto buildings and was now following the man. She watched him walk for an hour before he went into a building. She slid down a wall of the building and let herself into a window. Creeping down the stairway, she heard voices talking.

 

The voice she recognized to be from the man said, “Two witchers are looking into us. We need to be careful, and we need to get rid of them. One was the girl we’ve tried to steal from multiple times, and the other was the White Wolf himself. I assume he was at Kaer Morhen during our raid.”

 

An unidentifiable voice with a strong Temerian cockney accent starts talking, “Great. The last ploughing thing we needed was witchers in town looking for us. We should send some assassins after the small’un.”

 

“She’s proven pretty unmanageable in combat before. It may be wise to deal with the White Wolf.”

 

“Are you kidding? No way! The White Wolf is a death sentence. We best leave him alone. Give him leads that take him out of town. That probably goes for the both of them if she’s as tough as you say.”

 

“We’ll see. We should give them shadows though. More information won’t hurt our new situation.”

 

“Sure. Send a couple lackeys.”

 

Geas hears them start talking about drinks and women, and decides it’s time to explore a bit. She sorts through papers on a desk, finding nothing other than love letters one of the men is writing to women in the whorehouse. _Desperate idiots_. Finding nothing else of interest or recent use, she swings out of the window onto a rope attached between roofs. After shimmying to one side, she is well on her way back to the safe house.

 

###

 

Geas is sitting inside the safe house fiddling with a dagger. She’s lost in thought, wondering about what she’ll do when she’s done hunting the Salamandra. Maybe go travel. She was in Novigrad for so long. There are other places that can catch her attention for awhile. Vizima is so dreary and grey, she wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the targeting of witcher mutagens. If she felt any connection to elves, she would go to Dol Blathanna, but there was nothing but disdain for her there. Her kind clearly didn’t want her when they left her out in the woods around 150 years ago; they didn’t even look for her or anything. They would dislike her even more now that she was a witcher.

 

Geralt comes in the door and breaks her focus. “Found the base in the sewers,” he says.

 


	3. A Brawl in the Sewers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geas and Geralt deal with some slimy Salamandra here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been so long since I posted more to this story, but I was taking my sweet and precious time deciding how quickly to develop Geas's character and whatnot. Hopefully it pans out well.

“That’s amazing! Let’s go now!” Geas jumps up and sheathes her dagger. A look of excitement takes over her whole face.

 

They head out the door. Geas looks to they sky and sees a beautiful orange, purple, and pink glow from the sunset. _The only consistently beautiful thing in Vizima._ Her mind races at the idea of actually taking out some Salamanders that have done so many harm. They enter the sewers and Geralt takes out a torch to lead them. Geas equips her bow and takes out every drowner that pops up from a long distance. Soon they approach the entrance of the hideout. Geas melts the lock with igni, and they proceed into the depths. 

 

Not long after entering they see some Salamandra bandits taking fisstech and others dueling each other. Others are surrounding a table and talking to one another. Both Geralt and Geas hide behind two different pillars and listen in.

 

The same cockney accent from earlier speaks, “We need to send a couple shadows out for the witchers. Hey you two!”

 

The dueling stops. “Yeah?”

 

“Head out and find two witchers. One elf and another with white hair; they’re probably together. Don’t attack them or talk, just follow and find out what you can.”

 

“Alright.” Footsteps come closer to Geralt and Geas. The lackeys almost pass them on their way out, but they are quickly grabbed and dispatched silently. They never even made it a yard past the pillars. They both guide the bodies down to the ground in front of them and continue listening.

 

“We’ll know what they’re up to and what they know fairly soon. As long as those piss ants make it. But right now we need to think about the lab. If the witchers figure out where that is, the base is in jeopardy. We should move the papers and whatnot somewhere off location.”

 

Another voice begins, “We should move the papers here for that matter. We have plenty of sensitive things here.”

 

“That’s very true. Start gathering things to take somewhere else for safe keeping. May want to take it all to the base in a couple days.”

 

Geralt looks over at Geas, and she holds a finger up to her lips telling him to be silent. She slips a small vial out of her pocket, pops a cork off, and drinks the liquid. She then vanishes into thin air.

 

Geas walks towards the men gathering materials. She knocks each of them out with a potent version of axii, and then takes all the papers. The Salamanders on fisstech finally notice something amiss and come investigate. Geas dispatches them with her daggers.

 

Geralt finally sees her reappear in front of him with papers in hand. He looks behind the pillar to see five men knocked unconscious and another three lying lifeless on the ground. “Don’t you want to finish off the others? They’re bandits. Villains.”

 

“I think it sends a stronger message if we just steal their papers and head to the lab right now.”

 

Geralt nods. She examines the papers for the location of the lab, and they head back through the sewers to it. She looks over at Geralt and begins to speak, “So I overheard the man running the pin repossession talking about sending people to shadow us. His plans didn’t make it too far, obviously. He was actually asking the man with a cockney accent in there to do it. He was a good lead despite withholding information.”

 

“Panicked and led us right to them all.”

 

“Mhm. The only sad part is that these two raids will be over very quickly.”

 

The two of them trek through the sewers to the fisstech lab. They both take out their preferred weapons and ready for battle. Up ahead of them is two lackey’s guarding a door. Geas holds out both of her hands and produces a fireball between them that hurls toward the men. The door and the men bust apart into fiery embers. Geralt stands back stunned, despite his massive memory loss he knows that no witcher is able to do something of that degree. She rushes forward into the blast zone looking for more enemies. She takes out five men within 10 seconds, leaping gracefully all around and slicing them fatally. As the slaughter is continued, Geralt finds himself almost unable to move due to surprise. _I thought she was a young witcher. I thought she wasn’t as trained as I am. But she’s better. She’s stronger than even Vesemir. How?_

 

He eventually charges in and helps with the battle, but there isn’t much left to assist with. Geas has taken out most of the men with magic, that Geralt can only assume is a more practiced version of signs, and her daggers. Once they are done, she begins looking through the desks and tables throughout the lab. Geralt looks over at her and asks, “How did you do that?”

 

“Do what?”

 

“All of it… The fireball, the lightning quick speeds, blasting them away with a mere glare… How?”

 

“Can’t you?” She feigned not knowing that she was an extraordinary witcher, something she herself could not explain.

 

“No. My master couldn’t do that now, and we assume he’s older than Kaer Morhen itself. Brings me to my other question, how old are you?”

 

She smirks and says, “Isn’t it rude to ask a lady her age?”

 

“I think in certain cases where the lady is an insanely powerful elven witcher, it’s more than okay.”

 

She sighed and spoke, “Alright. Alright… I’ll tell you what I do know. I’m around 150, give or take a couple years. I was found in the woods by a witcher. I assume I’m from Dol Blathanna given where I was found. Trained through my adolescent years. And I left after my trial. Everyone at the cat school, save for a few, were crazy. Murderous. I didn’t like the idea of hurting people and hunting other people down, so I went on my own Path alone.”

 

“You aren’t sure of your origin at all. Everything is open.”

 

“Everything isn’t likely though.”

 

“Never seen anyone use signs like that.”

 

“It’s not so much signs anymore unless I want to do something simple. It’s more like manipulating the elements with my mind.”

 

“You ever use Elder Speech?”

 

“No. Never needed to.”

 

Geralt let everything sink in. _She’s 50 years older than me, can use magic with just her mind, and doesn’t even know where she’s from. Why couldn’t I happen upon any other witcher?_ He looked over at her.

 

“I know what you're thinking,” she said.

 

“What you’re a telepath too? I hate people being in my head.” Geralt said.

 

“No! Not what I meant, Geralt. I’m trouble. I’m going to cause you problems. It’s okay. You can’t walk around with magic like this and not be trouble.”

 

“Geas, you wield magic like a sage, I don’t think there is any trouble you could run into that you couldn't get yourself out of. Not bothered by any of this.”

 

“Okay. Sorry. I’m just… used to people being more afraid of the magic.”

 

They both stand there in silence. Geralt is absorbing everything he just learned about Geas, and she is just glad that another person hasn’t rejected her based solely on her magical abilities. What Geas never told anyone is that she longed to know how exactly she had this aptitude, but she didn’t know where to begin looking. After all, who would have a connection to an abandoned elven baby from 150 years ago?

 

“You have any desire to find out where you’re actually from? Sure there’s someone that can help.”

 

Geas hesitated to answer. Despite wanting to know, she was also afraid of anything she could find out. It may be a curse, her name did mean beautiful curse, after all. She spoke up, “Yes, I’d like to know. But it was so long ago. I’m doubtful anyone could find out.”

 

“Sorceress may be able to find out. They know how to trace magical bloodlines, right?”

 

“The best would be an elven sage, but I’m not sure where to find the only one I’ve heard of. I know she’s part of the Lodge of Sorceresses.”

 

“Know a sorceress, Triss Merigold. She might help or lead us to help. If I find out where she is, we’ll pay a visit”

 

“Diolch am eich cefnogaeth.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

“How much Elder Speech do you know, Geralt?”

 

“I’m fairly fluent. Can understand nearly all of it.”

 

“Ah. I wasn’t aware.” Clearly uncomfortable, she continues, “Let’s go. We should gather papers and head back to the safe house.”

 

Many of the papers take them straight to the headquarters, and they’ll begin that assault later. For right now, the two witchers walk back to the safe house and grab food on the way there. Once at the safe house, they sit together at a table downstairs and eat. The room is quiet, with only the sounds of them eating food and the foot traffic outside. Geas is gazing down at the table after she finished, and Geralt can’t help but look for any signs of aging on while her hood is off, hair is down, and she’s not paying attention. Her skin looks like that of a young adult, flawless - save for a faint bridge of freckles across her nose - and soft. Her hair lacks any grey, and is in fact a warm glowing shade. Bright, golden red at the top, and it slowly flows to more sun-bleached shades closer to the ends. He wonders if she’s actually ever aged at all. He looks away, not wanting to stare too long.

 

“I can tell when you stare, Geralt.”

 

“Sorry. Just wondering how you’re 150 years old. I figured you were a new witcher when we met.”

 

“I told you extra mutations. That’s what supposedly keeps me from aging hardly at all.”

 

Geralt huffs and lets his thoughts wander.  _I doubt it’s just the mutations. There’s something more to it all, whether she knows it or not. She has to realize it’s more than that._ The conversation stops shortly after Geralt speculates a few more times. 

 

Geas got much more than she bargained for in an adventuring partner. _This is what happens when you feel lonely and complain to yourself that you’re lonely. One person becomes interested in the one thing most personal about you. I suppose he means well though._ She looks up him as he is now moving away from the table. He takes out his swords and begins to polish and care for them. Geas moves over to the couch, lays down, and sifts through the  Salamandra papers looking for valuable information.

 

Geralt walks over to her and sits on the end of the couch at her feet. Geas lays the papers down beside her and sits up a bit in effort to give him more room. “You’re fine,” he says.

 

“I don’t mind making room.”

 

They end up sitting face to face. Geas is towards the end of the couch with legs curled up against the back, and Geralt is propped back and stretched out without invading her space.

 

“When was the last time you traveled with someone, or spent time with someone for awhile?”

 

Geas has to think about it for a minute. She speaks, “I can’t remember the last time I traveled or spent time with someone for more than two days. People usually see the magic or combat skills and fear me afterwards. What about you?”

 

“I can’t exactly remember. I’ve uhm… got a case of amnesia.”

 

“How much can you remember?”

 

“About two weeks worth of traveling and being around Vizima. After that… nothing. Kaer Morhen and training and my younger years. I just know what people have told me in the past couple weeks, at least when it comes to myself and others around me. I still remember the world and how things works.”

 

“Wow. That’s a lot. I’m sorry Geralt. I complain about not knowing where I’m from… but what you’re dealing with is much harder. I might be able to help. Magically, I mean.” He givers her a questioning gaze, and she continues, “I can reach into people’s minds. See what’s going on. If you don’t care to let me in, I may be able to see if older memories are in there, and maybe recover them.”

 

“I hate having people in my head, but I’ll take anything that’s a chance.”

 

Geas moves closer to him, almost in his lap. She puts her palms on either side of his head, and lets her mind wander out of her own head and into his. She looks deep into his memories trying to find something, she could sense it all there and see where his memories were. No matter how she attempted to reach it, they were blocked off. Whatever bound his memories could only be lifted by what bound them in the first place or Geralt himself. She removed her hands and looked at him. She said, “I’m sorry Geralt. I know the memories are there, I just can’t uncover them. But you can, I’m not sure how. They aren’t gone for good.”

 

Geralt looked down at his lap, quiet obviously trying to hide the frustration and sadness he felt at not being able to recall his past life at all. Geas didn’t know what to do, because she was bad at dealing with emotions herself, but she decided to hold his hands. It was the only comfort she felt she could offer. His hands tightened around hers in appreciation. They sat there like that for a moment, and he then looked up at her. “It’s okay,” he said, “I’ll figure it all out one day. I still have more of a life to live.”

 

“I’m sure you have plenty more years ahead of you Geralt, and I’ll help in whatever way I can to bring your memories back.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Geas looked down into her lap where their hands were still clasped together. Geralt’s hands covered her small, thin hands entirely. Only little pale thumbs were seen. Geralt continued to look at Geas, and he was suddenly very thankful for the fact he ran into her. It was very nice to have someone that you could share so much common ground with. Someone with your own path and interests. The fact that they already cared about each other’s well being was an even better addition to the clearly perfect mix of their lifestyle. 

 

They both let go, and Geas walked across the room and went upstairs. She felt they both needed some private time, and she wanted to nap during hers. Geralt watched her leave, and then he laid down on the couch. He slid his hands behind his head and closed his eyes; he slipped into deep thought.

 


	4. Becoming Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final assault on the Salamandra. I've deviated from Witcher 1 a lot here, but I can't bring myself to go through all that detective work again. Things will pick up shortly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short chapter. Hopefully will decide on some things and continue soon.

“It’s time.” Geralt stands over Geas, who was sleeping peacefully in her bed.

 

She rolls over and opens her eyes. She says, “For?”

 

“The assault on Salamandra. We need to go before they have time to clear it all out.”

 

Geas sits up and gathers herself. She stands up to slip on various parts of armor she stripped off to sleep. “Where are we going to begin the assault?”

 

“I say we drop in on the very center of the building.”

 

“I like your thinking! But how? Where’s the entrance for that?”

 

“Just follow me.” A large smirk forms of Geralt’s face, and he begins to run out of the house and sprint through the streets.

 

Geas picks up her bow, arrows, and daggers on the way out, and speeds after him. Geralt is long gone, but she uses her witcher sights to track him. Soon she catches up, and runs along his side. Soon they are at the edge of the Trade Quarter, and they need to cross into the restricted Temple Quarter. She begins working her way up a wall of a nearby building to get over the nearby wall. She then uses her telekinetic powers to life herself over the wall and land on another building. Geralt lifts himself to the top of the other building, and she brings him over to her in the same way. They then go from rooftop to rooftop until they reach the building the Salamandra are staying in. The two witchers drop in on the meeting.

 

###

 

Geralt and Geas burst into the safe house later that night. Geas said, “Well Salamandra is very much gone, and all of your mutagens are safe again. At least for now.” 

 

They had come in right at the perfect time. All the leaders present, mutagens being discussed. Turns out they wanted to sell them to the Grandmaster of the Flaming Rose, as he was deeply interested in them. The witchers knew who to look out for in the future, but the immediate threat was handled. Both of them collapsed on the couch, and began taking off the more uncomfortable parts of their armor and their weapons. Geas glided across the room, and brought back a bottle of liquor and two clean glasses. She poured them both a large glass of Temerian rye. 

 

“I’ve been saving this for a special occasion.”

 

Geralt smirks and says, “Certainly special.”

 

“I’ll admit, this seems like it all happened far too easily. But, I’m going to celebrate and be happy, because even if it isn’t over we made a massive amount of progress.”

 

The two of them sit and recount the battle, each of them complementing the other on certain moves they made. The conversation lasts for awhile, and they drink nearly the entire bottle by the end of it. “Hey Geralt, maybe we should uhm… slow down? We’ve almost had the whole bottle.”

 

“Slow down? No, that would be frowned upon. May as well finish it now!”

 

She giggles at him, “Sure, sure. Okay, pour me another then.”

 

Both witchers continue drinking until the bottle is gone, and then Geralt looks disappointed. “Wish we had more. Or food. Would be good.”

 

“You’re right. But I’m out. Maybe we just sleep.”

 

“Boring. Let’s do something fun.”

 

“This again? You couldn’t even,” she hiccups and continues, “come up with anything last time.”

 

“Let me think.”

They sit there is silence, just looking at each other. Geas looks into Geralt’s amber eyes, and finds it hard to look away. When he has such a warm and friendly expression on his face it’s hard to not feel invited to gaze at him, so she did just that. She then looks down and notices that over the course of the conversation they have slowly drifted towards each other, and are no longer on opposing ends of the couch. In fact, they are very much close together. Geas glances back up, and Geralt’s face is coming ever closer. Within a moment, their lips meet. The kisses then exchanged are deep and passionate, but they don’t stop with just kisses. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't bring myself to write actual smut. Sorry to disappoint. Took the tag off because I'm not sure I ever will. I'm sure you all have nice imaginations though. Going to start focusing a bit more of Geas's background now.


	5. Moving On - Hopefully

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I decided on something very different from my original idea. Don't worry? It'll be okay? Maybe? Have fun.

 

Dawn breaks, and the two witchers lie stark naked in the safe house. Geas’s eyes flutter open to see Geralt, and upon remembering the previous night her mind floods with guilt. She hates that they slept together. She’s trouble for him, and she knows it. _I don’t want to do more damage. He’s lost everything. He has a life outside of what he currently remembers._

With these thoughts in minds, she carefully slips out of bed and into her armor. Once fully equipped with all of her gear and personal belongings, she stands over Geralt. Calling on all of her magical strength and knowledge, she rewrites the past week of Geralt’s memories. She leaves herself out, and lets him remember succeeding in his quest of retrieving the mutagens. After Geas is certain she took herself out of his life, she fades out of Vizima. 

###

For years, Geas works to find out who she really is, as per Geralt’s suggestion. She makes contact with the Lodge of Sorceresses, and soon enough the elven sage Ida Emean aep Sivney traces her blood. What is discovered is unnerving to Geas’elaine, and despite the worldly importance of her true identity she lives her life in secrecy. She avoids contact with anyone for too long a time, and moves from place to place making sure to stay out of realm wide conflict. 

 

After a prolonged time of nomadic lifestyle, Geas moves to Velen. Nilfgaard has been attacking Temeria for some time now, and she has no desire to live in a war zone. She would go back to Novigrad, but she wouldn’t be very accepted under Radovid’s reign. She stays just outside of Midcopse for now, occasionally helping out with the odd job or so for the village witch. The town has come to accept the both of them because they help so much.

 

###

 

Geas moves about her modest cottage, cleaning and attending to the hiding of her more personal possessions. She is preparing to head out on a new quest, something Keira Metz the village witch, has asked her to take care of. As Geas is sliding her chest of keepsakes into her hiding spot, a knock sounds at the door. “Give me just a minute,” she yells.

 

After securing the chest in hiding, she strides over to the door. Geas opens the door, and is confronted with a ghost she never thought she would run into again. So many years later, Geralt stands in her doorway, though he shows no hint of recognizing her. That must mean her spell is still working. The shock from their first meeting is back, much to her amusement and relief. 

 

“Keira told me I’d be meeting someone interesting. Not another… Witcher.”

 

Geas laughs, “Yeah she likes to hold back the fun details. But uhm, who are you? Why are you here?”

 

“I’m Geralt of Rivia, and Keira said you would help me lift the curse on Fyke Isle.”

 

“Ah. I was under the impression I would be doing that alone, but there’s no harm in having help. I’m Geas’elaine by the way.”

 

“Nice to meet you. Just let me know when you want to leave. I have a boat ready fairly close by.”

 

Geas gathers her weapons, and they make their way down to his boat. Not much conversation takes place on the boat, aside from Geas asking Geralt why he’s in Velen. He mutters some stuff about looking for someone, but she does not press it. She wants to try and stay distant, unless he needs her help. _Oh how I hope he does not need me after this._ This area isn’t exactly too far from where she originally left him, but it’s been so long she doubts any reasons from the past are related to now. The curiosity is itching at her, alas she knows it is best to not ask.

 

“So have you helped Keira with anything else? She seems to have never ending tasks for me,” Geas asks him.

 

“Not quiet. You could say she helped me. I’m repaying a favor.”

 

Geas nods in understanding. She sees Fyke Isle approaching in the distance, and she begins coating her blades with oil in hopes to protect against the rot fiends she knows inhabit the island. She looks up to Geralt and asks, “Would you like me to oil your silver sword while you handle the helm?”

 

“Couldn’t hurt,” he responds, unsheathing his sword. While handing it to her, their hands make contact. It feels like a small spark just went off between the Witchers’ finger tips, and Geas pretends to pay it no mind. She is aware of the fact that the more physical contact they have, the less the spell will work. This one loophole is the only reason it has lasted so long, and there is no way for her to re-do the undoing without Geralt noticing now. She oils the sword, and slips her gloves back on before handing him the sword. The effort to protect the secret and her spell seems to work, as no magic is dispersed when their hands graze one another. Geas sighs a nearly noticeable relief and prepares to land on the island. She can tell Geralt is already suspicious of her.

 

On the island, the two Witchers cut through rot fiends and ghouls alike. These monsters waste no time finding the pair, and in turn the Witchers shred the abominations with ease. It’s much like cutting through butter with a red hot knife. After a while, they reach the cursed tower. Ascending, their medallions wobble and furniture moves around them. Uncomfortably aware of the strong spirit residing here, they keep going up. Eventually, they encounter Anabell, 

 

After a rather tiresome conversation with Anabell, Geas is aware that she is actually a plague maiden haunting the tower. It’s no surprise that she turned into one, given the research going on here and the nature of her death. Geralt, seemingly unaware of this, accepts the offer to take her bones off the island to her old love. At this notion, Geas chimes in and says, “We will do no such thing. That spells disaster, and I have a very strong feeling that you have lied many times to us.”

 

Anabell weeps more, and begins screaming at them, “Why must you press me so? What do you want of me? I just want to be free of this place!” At the end of her rant, she turns into her true form, a pesta. A battle ensues but ultimately Anabell disappears, forcing the witchers to bring her old love to the tower.

 

###

 

Hours later, Geralt and Geas have lifted the curse from Fyke Isle, but with the expense of the fisherman’s life and a rather disturbing show. They return to Keira, with little conversation on the way there. Once they arrive, they begin to tell Keira about the details of the curse and events. Shortly after, Geralt begins to leave, and Keira asks him to find a package for her.

 

“I can take care of that for you. I’m sure Geralt has better things to be doing,” Geas says.

 

With that, Geas receives and icy glare from Keira. With the strange new tension in the air, Geralt leaves the two women alone and goes on his merry way. Keira hisses at Geas, “I might’av had a very good reason for asking him to do that. Thanks.”

 

“How am I supposed to know your plans? I’m not telepathic.”

 

Keira huffs, and waves her off. “Don’t bother with the package,” she says.

 

“Whatever,” Geas says as she walks out of the house. On her way back to her cottage, she sees Geralt looming in her small flower bed outside.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been gone for months. I had serious writer's block and nearly gave up on this entire work.


	6. You Will Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally decided to go with a plot line after months of writers block. Geas feels guilty for keeping their shared past from Geralt, but does she actually feel guilty enough to tell him about it?

“Wanted to ask you some questions,” Geralt says, eyeing Geas curiously.

 

“Be my guest. Would you like to come in?”

 

“Wouldn’t be against it.”

 

Geas opens up her door and gestures for him to sit in one of her comfy chairs beside her fireplace. She lights a fire, and pours them each a drink. Temerian rye, no less. They settle in for a moment, and Geas asks him to begin with his questions.

 

“Well, I can’t say I’ve run into another Witcher anytime lately. And since you don’t seem to be wearing your amulet, I’m curious about where you’re from.”

 

Geas carefully considers her response, and she says, “I’m from the Cat School. I grew up there, but left when I was very young. Right after mutations.”

 

“Not many of us do that. Didn’t like the school?”

 

“That, and they didn’t like me very much either. Mostly crazy people. Few honorable ones.”

 

“Sounds like what I’ve heard of the school. But I’ve never heard of a woman becoming a witcher. Much less an elven woman.”

 

“The Cat School likes to experiment. Wouldn’t be the first time they did something unconventional.”

 

Geralt laughs softly and says, “You’re not wrong. So I’m wondering what you’re doing out here helping Keira. Doesn’t seem she likes you very much.”

 

“She doesn’t like anyone very much.”

 

He laughs again and responds, “Funny, but it doesn’t answer my question.”

 

“You mean evasion won’t work? What a shame. In truth I’m just trying to stay away from Redainia and Nilfgaard, They aren’t exactly fans of non-humans, and I am very non-human.”

 

“Reasonable enough. Though I doubt that’s it.”

 

“Why are you here? Looking for someone yes, but who?”

 

Geralt averts his eyes from her gaze, and instead looks at the fire. He acts unsure as to how to respond, but nonetheless tells her, “Someone like a daughter to me.”

 

Geas knows who he is talking about. The elven sage Ida Sivney mentioned the child of the Elder Blood. It was all too relevant to the discoveries at the time. She knows how important it is that Cirilla be found, because she knew the Wild Hunt was around. Merely a day ago she felt the presence of some of them, no doubt related to why Geralt was here specifically.

 

“I’m very sorry Geralt. Where are you going to look for her next?”

 

“Ever heard of Crookback Bog?”

 

“Sadly. Disgusting and dangerous place. Please tell me you’re not going to see the Crones,” Geas says, a look of concern painting her face. _They’re the closest thing to manifestations of evil itself._

 

“I am, they’re probably going to know something.”

 

“Oh I’m sure they’ll know something. Doesn’t mean they’re going to tell you the truth, or anything at all for that matter. They’re tricky,” Geas tells him. _Not to mention their disgusting fetish for making stews of people. Particularly people that taste special. People with Elder Blood._ “That’s not to say I wouldn’t go. I would just worry about what you might encounter there.”

 

“I’m sure I’ve seen much worse in my time.”

 

“I know the stories Gwynbleidd, but the Crones are bad news. I’ve dealt with them myself.”

 

Geralt looks at Geas with amusement at this, and laughs at her. Geas’s face forms a frown, and she glares at him with disapproval. He says, “I didn’t mean to offend. I just assumed… that you're not as old as I am.”

 

“You would be very mistaken.”

 

His eyes narrow in response, and while many questions float through his mind, he is more concerned with how he should go about his visit to the Crones. Geralt asks her, “Since you have so much experience, why don’t you come along with me?”

 

Geas tenses up, visibly despite her best efforts. She tries to think of a way to evade this and not lie to him, but it feels like all of her conversations are lies with him right now. The guilt of her spell troubles her, but the idea of undoing it now bothers her just as much. She didn’t want to take up part of his life then, and now he could use her help more than he could ever know.

 

“Geralt, there’s something I need to share with you. I know you have a feeling that you’ve met me before. There’s a good reason for that. Just… Sit there a minute and hold my hand. You’ll remember everything in a moment.”

 

Geas leans over and takes Geralt’s hand, and his features fill with suspicion. He is unsure of what she is about to do, and just as he thinks to back out the memories start coming back. The cave, drinking contest, finding the Salamandra, talking about her powers and his past, and celebrating their victory many, many times that last night.

 

They let go of one another, and Geralt sits in silence glaring at Geas’elaine. _Why did she do it? Why did she make me forget her? We both needed someone then, at least I thought we both did._

 

“I know what you’re probably thinking. I betrayed your trust. I made you forget even more while knowing you had amnesia. I left you after learning to let you in. I made many mistakes,” Geas began to say more but was becoming unsure of how to proceed. She trailed off in silence and thought about what to say.

 

“Why do it at all? It didn’t have to be permanent. We didn’t have to become something. Could’ve talked to me.”

 

“I’m aware now, and I was then. I simply… did not want to give you the opportunity. I felt like trouble for you. I thought I would only get in the way of everything you needed to do. We both had similar objectives, but we needed to go very separate ways to take care of it all.”

 

“Cowardly way of doing it.”

 

His words had an icy bite, and she knew she deserved it. She just had to tell him what she foundout about herself. Geas said, “I know that too. It was easy for the both of us until now, but I have a good reason for letting you remember now.”

 

“Do tell.”

 

“I found out what I am. Another person of Elder Blood.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't abandon you all and not explain what Geas'elaine just said. Don't worry. Updates follow.

**Author's Note:**

> Have already changed some basic plot objectives multiple times, so bear with me. Also, any Elder Speech I use will most likely not be translated, but it's either right of the Witcher wiki or an iffy welsh translation if you want to find the real meaning. I might post them, but I'm forgetful.
> 
> I signal scene changes with "###"


End file.
